


Changing All the Time

by MistralAmara



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Challenge: Multi-Fandom Lyric Wheel, Episode: s03e03 Informed Consent, Gen, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistralAmara/pseuds/MistralAmara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron examines her motives and makes some decisions. Takes place shortly after episode 3.03, "Informed Consent."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing All the Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izhilzha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izhilzha/gifts).



> Written for Sarah (Izhilzha) as part of the 2007 LiveJournal Multi-Fandom Lyric Wheel challenge. Link to lyrics after the story, to avoid spoilers.

_September 20th, 2006_

 _Proud of me. He says he's proud of me. What does that mean, exactly? If he'd said it last year, even six months ago, I'd have thought I knew. Now? I'm not sure it matters. I didn't do it for him. I'm not even sure I did it for the patient._

 _I think maybe I did it for myself._

 _House is wrong about me. I'm not attracted to damaged people. Not in the way he thinks, anyway. I just want to ease their pain, is that so wrong? It's the reason we become doctors, after all, to heal the sick and ease pain. Even if sometimes those two things are mutually exclusive._

 _Maybe that's what House wanted me to learn from this, that you can't always do both. You'd think I'd have learned it when Tom died. I thought I had learned it. But I couldn't do anything for Tom; only hold his hand and wait. It almost destroyed me, the waiting, the not being able to help. But this time, I had a choice._

 _Powell may not have deserved my admiration for the things he did in life, but he was still my patient. He deserved humane treatment. He deserved some dignity. I hope I gave him that. But still, that wasn't why I did it. Maybe I did it because of what I needed; what I thought I deserved: not to have to watch someone suffer needlessly, ever again. Or, maybe, I needed to prove to myself that I didn't need to make him suffer; that on some fundamental level I'm not like him._

 _And I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the surface, it's a simple transaction: he got what he wanted, and I got what I wanted. The maximum good was served. When no more healing was possible, I eased his pain. A rational decision, in despite of the rules. That's what House is proud of; that's what House sees._

 _Only I know how irrational a decision it really was; how much of it was driven by my needs, rather than the patient's._

 _And so now I know something else. Something that House has been saying all along: I have to stop taking on other people's pain, pain that I can't ease. Which means that I have to stop taking on House's pain. He should appreciate the twisted logic of that._

 _Because if the ketamine wears off, it's back to square one. If the ketamine doesn't wear off, well, House and pain are old friends. They're much too intimately acquainted to let go of each other now. And I can't be friends with pain anymore._

 _I have to make some new friends._

 _\--A. C._

 

***

  
It wasn't really planned, what happened next. She saw Wilson in the corridor, and a half-formed thought bypassed her inner censor and translated itself into action. "Doctor Wilson," she heard herself say.

"Yes?"

"Are you free for dinner?"

He frowned and looked at his watch. "If you need a consult, I have ten minutes right now."

"No consult; I just thought we might have dinner. There's a new French restaurant near my place I've been meaning to try."

Wilson's frown turned to puzzlement. He looked around the corridor as if expecting a hidden camera. "Look, if this is an attempt to get under House's skin—"

"It's not."

"What, then?"

"You know, dinner: food, conversation, relaxation."

"Will the others be coming, or is this just--"

"Just the two of us. Two friends having dinner." She gave him a friend-sized smile.

"Okay," he said uncertainly.

"Great. I'll make the reservations; you pick me up at seven-thirty." She turned to go. A thought struck her, and she turned back; he was still staring after her. "One rule," she said. "No shop talk. Especially, no House talk."

He blinked. "Right. No House talk."

"See you." She turned and walked away before Wilson could change his mind.

Her heart felt lighter already. Okay, so Wilson wasn't exactly a _new_ friend; but seeing him outside the context of the hospital, outside the context of House, would be good for both of them. Even if making a no-House rule was still perversely House-centric, it was a step in the right direction.

And a step in the right direction was always a good way to start.

  


-End-

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyrics to the Fiona Apple song, [Extraordinary Machine](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/fionaapple/extraordinarymachine.html).


End file.
